Bella at Midnight (17 page)

It was also the reason she insisted, when first we entered the King's City, that we stop first at her house, before going on to Father's. I remember wishing we could do it some other time, as we had already ridden a long way, and I was tired and anxious to get where we were going. But Auntie wanted me to spend a little time with my old grandfather.

He had for many years been troubled in his mind—from old age and grief, Auntie said. All the same, he seemed delighted to learn that he had a granddaughter. He beamed with pleasure when I kissed his hand, and said how pretty I was, so like my mother. But then, after a while, he began to grow agitated and confused, calling me Catherine and scolding me crossly for staying away so long.

Auntie thought perhaps we ought to go. She tucked in Grandfather's blankets, which were in disarray, and kissed him on the forehead, and told him—as though he were a beloved child—that he must be very good while she was gone, that she would be back soon, and that Maddy the housemaid would be there at his side if he needed anything. Then we left.

Later, looking back on that little visit, I realized that Auntie had had another motive for arranging it, besides introducing me to Grandfather. She wanted me to see where she dwelt, so that if I should ever need her help, I would know where to go. And indeed, that is exactly what I did that night, after Alice rescued me from the storeroom: I went straight to Auntie's house.

Of course I
was
somewhat afraid she might try to stop me, that she would think my mission too reckless and dangerous for a young girl to undertake. At the very least I expected she would want to go with me. But she did neither of those things. She said straight out that she was not strong enough for such a journey, that she would only be a hindrance to me. Besides, she said, Grandfather was not well, and she could not leave him. But she was convinced that my quest was a righteous one, worth even the risk to my life, and so she promised to do whatever she could to help me.

We had had precious little time to work out a plan and gather the things I would need, for it was already late when I arrived, and I would have to be away by first light, before Stepmother awoke and discovered I was gone. And as there had been so much to do, I had not slept at all that night, not even for an hour. Now exhaustion was beginning to tell on me. But I was well prepared as to what I ought to say to any folk I might meet upon the road. And so, tired though I was, I answered the tinker easily.

“I am a messenger, sent by my mistress to her sister,” I said.

“Have you papers to that effect? For if not, lad, you may be thought to have run from your master, and be taken into custody.”

“I have papers,” I said. (And I did, too, for Auntie had thought of that and had written some out for me.)

“That is good,” he answered. “You will need them when you cross the border as well. It is not often that folk in Moranmoor send messages to Brutanna—truce or no truce. It is odd and might be thought suspicious.”

“I am sent to summon her sister home,” I said, “for their mother is dying.”

“I see. And the sister dwells in Brutanna?”

“Oh, no,” I said. “She is with the queen's household and lives at the palace. But she has gone to Brutanna to prepare the way for the king and queen, who will soon visit there.”

“Is that so? For what occasion?”

“A royal wedding.”

“Ah,” he said, and seemed satisfied. Then after a while, “Have you a good memory, lad?”

“Good enough,” I said.

“Then I will tell you the roads you must follow, and where to stay the night that they will not cheat you—for I know the region well. Once you cross the border, though, I can be of no help to you, for I have never been there and have only heard ill of the people, that they are coarse and stupid and live like pigs.”

“I have heard that, too,” I said. “That they dine on fish guts and such.”

He laughed. “Like enough they do,” he said.

His good guidance saved me time and money, and may well have prevented some mishap that would have delayed me further. Auntie would probably say that God sent that tinker to speed my way—and perhaps she would be right, for I did believe my mission to be a holy one. I hoped at least to save a life, perhaps to stop a war. God could not but smile upon that.

In good time I arrived at the wide river that divides our two countries. To get to the other side I would have to take a ferry, there being no bridge or shallow crossing in that place. The ferry was little more than a raft of logs hauled back and forth by a system of stout ropes fastened to trees on either side. I boarded it with great reluctance; only pride prevented me from crying out when I felt the surface beneath my feet begin to move. My horse was likewise most agitated, and stomped about and snorted and rolled her eyes. I did my best to hold her still and calm her, lest she should cause us to tip over.

The boatman was surly and odd, with such a great tangled beard that it would have made a fine nest for a family of mice. He had one eye that looked at you and another that looked elsewhere. Indeed, I liked him not, for he put me in mind of Charon, from the old story—the one who ferried dead souls across the River Styx. Once this image had entered my thoughts, it would not leave me, and I began to wonder if the far shore would be like the country of the damned and its inhabitants the walking dead.

Dreadful as that prospect was, the river frightened me still more—so wide and deep it was, with such a mighty current. As we slowly made our way across, the boatman heaving and grunting as he worked the ropes, the force of the water pressed relentlessly against the rim of the raft, as if it wished to break us loose from our tether and send us hurtling down the stream. No wonder I was plagued by grim imaginings—I could not help it!

As if in a waking dream, I saw our crude little vessel capsize; I saw the boatman save himself by clinging fast to one of the ropes; I saw my horse, pumping her legs frantically in an effort to stay afloat, whinnying in terror as she was swept away by the power of the water; and I saw myself, too, swallowed up by the river, sinking deeper and deeper into the darkness, struggling to breathe, and finally dying there—my cap floating off and my hair fanning out around my cold, white face.

I have always had too much imagination for my own good. We did not tip over. I did not drown. We reached the other side with no mishap or calamity whatsoever. And once I had paid the boatman, I continued my journey north on a perfectly ordinary road. In truth I was almost disappointed, for the countryside of Brutanna looked exactly the same as that of Moranmoor. And the people I met there did not have horns or tails; they were not demons or damned souls—just ordinary folk, like those at home. Some were helpful and pleasant; others were not.

They spoke a dialect much like ours, though I began to notice, as I rode deeper into the country, that they had different words for many common things—
eggys
instead of
eggs
, and suchlike. Also, their accent was not so smooth and beautiful as ours, but hard and guttural. As part of my plan required me to pass for a local, I began to practice their way of speaking as I rode along. And I must have been successful at it, for the folk I met upon the road believed me when I said I came from the southern regions of their country. This eased my mind considerably.

I was stopped only once, shortly after I entered the territory of Brutanna, when I was asked to show my papers and was questioned closely. One of the soldiers looked at me hard, and I feared he had seen through my disguise and would arrest me as a spy. But my papers satisfied him, and as the upcoming wedding was common knowledge, and as the royal family of my country had been invited, they let me pass.

Everything seemed to be going well, yet I still worried about the time. I knew not how many more days I would have to travel before I reached the castle—and I
must
arrive in time for the wedding, if possible a few days before. And so I took to setting out earlier each morning and staying upon the road later before stopping for the night. Once or twice I was obliged to sleep out in the open, for I had already passed the last inn for many miles but had decided not to stop, as the sun was yet in the sky. I slept not well on those nights, for fear of robbers or wild beasts, but I came to no harm.

I have never ridden much in my life, excepting the trip with Auntie from my village to the King's City. After so many days in the saddle, I suffered terrible pains in my legs and in the place where you sit, so that at times I could bear it no longer and had to get down and walk. But as this slowed my progress, I did not do it often.

Finally, at about mid-morning on a warm September day, I saw ahead in the misty distance the high walls and towers of King Harry's castle. I had been upon the road for a little more than a fortnight and, as I would soon discover, my haste had served me well. Three days still remained before the wedding.

K
ing Harry's fields sprawled out across a goodly plain, a bright patchwork of green and gold. Brutanna had prospered much in the time of peace! The villagers, now free from fear of raiding parties, had built terraces up the slopes of the hills to the west and planted new orchards and vineyards there. And King Harry, no longer in need of defensive walls in peacetime, had begun transforming his sturdy castle into a grand and elegant palace.

They trusted us to keep our word and honor the treaty. They did not dream that in just three days, as the matins bell pealed the midnight hour, King Gilbert would ride out of the forest and lay waste to all that prosperity! Crops so patiently tended throughout the spring and summer would be burned to the ground in a night; tender vines and saplings, planted with such hope for future harvests, would be torched before ever they could grow a cluster of grapes or a fine, ripe peach. And Harry's handsome new palace would lie in ruins.

All this would come to pass if I failed at my mission. It was a great undertaking for a simple soul like me, and the weight of it hung heavy upon my heart. But I believed that God was beside me in all that I did, and that gave me courage. I determined to keep my wits about me and make haste, for there was little time.

I turned my horse away from the road, in the direction of the woods. We wound our way through the trees and tall brush until, at last, I came upon a small clearing not far from the forest's edge. Stopping there, I got down from my horse and began removing my boy's garments, folding them carefully and tucking them away in the satchel that was fastened to my saddle. Then I put on the old olive-green gown and round-toed shoes I had worn every day for the past three years. I would be posing now as an ordinary peasant girl—a part I could play easily, for I had been raised up to it.

I found stable room for my horse in the village; by noon I had been admitted to the castle grounds and had found my way to one of the temporary outdoor kitchens that had been set up in the courtyard. This was common practice whenever noble folk gathered for a royal wedding. The castle cooks could not handle the multitude of lavish dishes expected on such an occasion—and for so many guests—so extra kitchens had to be built and help brought in to staff them.

I was hired on at the princely sum of one penny per day, plus meals. I would work under the direction of that kitchen's supervising cook, a broad-beamed, red-faced woman with a fine set of lungs. You could hear her bellowing orders over the din of the place like a pig in a slaughterhouse. She had a sharp tongue, too, and at first I thought she did not like me. I realized soon after that it was in no way personal. She didn't like anybody.

I had told her, when first I arrived, that I was an experienced cook—imagining she might allow me to make pastry or carve dragons out of marzipan. “Good,” she said. “Let us see how experienced you are at plucking chickens.”

But I could not please her, even at that common task. Pulling the bird out of my hands, she demonstrated by ripping out great handfuls of feathers at a frenzied pace, causing a blizzard to fly about our heads. “Like
that
!” she shouted, and thrust the carcass back into my lap. “We don't have all day. There's no place for lazy girls here.”

“Yes, Cook,” I said, and began attacking the bird with a vengeance.

“You must not mind her too much,” whispered the girl beside me, a dark and robust lass with pink cheeks and a gentle voice. (She smiled often, and broadly, too—all uncaring that she showed the world a mouthful of yellow, crooked teeth. I thought this very sweet, and liked her better for it.) “There really is a lot to do,” she assured me, “preparing food for so many—and such a grand feast, too, with all the royalty here!”

“Not
all
,” said another girl, this one small and delicate with fine, yellow hair and a vexing cough. She did not trouble to turn her head away, I noticed, but coughed right into the food. I wondered that the cook did not rebuke her over it. “The king and queen of Moranmoor are still not here, and they are shockingly late! The other great folk arrived days ago.” She counted on her fingers: “The king and queen of Galant (and the prince, of course), and the earl of Swithin, and the duke of Gran, and—”